Half the World Away - страница 2

But my throat is locked, my head full of tears. So I just hug her tighter, sniffing hard, breathing in the smell of her – orange-blossom shampoo and mint chewing gum and something like salt.

‘Bye-bye.’ She does that funny wave, like her hand and arm are rigid, no wrist joint. And all I can do is nod vigorously and smile, lips closed, teeth clamped together.

We watch her walk away, her tote bag over one shoulder, a quick stride as if she’ll break into a run at any moment.

She pauses where the ramp leads down to Departures and waves again. I wave back. Tom gives her a thumbs-up and a peace sign.

Then she is gone.

‘Oh, God.’ I let my breath out.

‘She’ll be fine,’ he says.

‘It’s not her I’m worried about,’ I try to joke but it comes out all squeaky. I find a tissue, dab at my eyes.

‘Jo?’

I shake my head. ‘It’s OK.’

Back on the top of the car park, the sky is changing: a red blush tints shreds of cloud to the west. The end of the day is coming. The hotels around the airport are visible, as is the railway station and, further away, the skyline of the city.

‘It’s just-’ I get no further. Tears come hot on my cheeks, making my ribs heave.

Tom puts his arms around me. I stiffen momentarily, the contact unfamiliar. Then I let go. The release helps, easing the heaviness in my chest, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

‘Sorry.’ I blow my nose.

‘Home?’

We drive back into the city, against the flow of commuters leaving after their day’s work, the sunset a blaze of copper, the sky to the east darkening purple.

Tom drops me at mine, and once he’s gone, I sit on the front step for a moment, readying myself to go in to Nick and the boys.

Almost dark, and the insects are still busy among the carnations, cosmos and honeysuckle. The perfume from the flowers is sweet above the city smells of stone, exhaust fumes and food cooking. The evening star is rising. Higher above, I see a moving light, white then a flash of red. A plane. Not Lori’s, not yet. She’ll be through security control now, waiting in the departure lounge. Maybe doing some shopping.

A cat yowls in the back gardens and I hear Benji answer with a bark from inside. Further away there is the sound of glass breaking, then a slam. Someone putting their bottles in the recycling.

All I want to do is indulge my sadness, get drunk and pine for Lorelei, weep and eat more than I need to, sleep late.

Fat chance.

So I go back in to my husband and help get Finn and Isaac settled in bed and answer all their questions about their big sister’s big adventure for the umpteenth time.

And lie awake all night like an idiot.

Lori texts just as I’m starting work. All good. Just got thru Customs. Knacked. Love you L xxx I’m relieved. I can’t imagine Thailand, only images culled from pictures in the weekend magazines or movies like The Beach. All vegetation, palm-fringed sands, endless hills and deep diving pools. What it might be like, the atmosphere, the day-to-day life, the cities, socializing – I’ll be relying on Lori to broaden my horizons.

This morning I listened to the first jets taking off every few minutes from the airport, growls climbing to a roar, then fading. I’m still bereft. Lori going seems to fuel the grief I’ve been coping with since my mother died in June. The two things are muddled up.

The alarm went at seven, and Nick got the boys up while I made their packed lunches. The news about chemical weapons being used in Syria made my mood seem like an indulgence. Then came breakfast. No matter how well prepared I try to be, there is always a sense of impending chaos at breakfast time. Finn or Isaac will be missing some crucial item of clothing, their book bag or PE kit. There is a disaster with the food, one of them finishing the milk before the other has any, a cup of juice ruining a precious drawing (usually Finn’s juice and Isaac’s drawing). There is a squabble about toys. Or a sudden inability to reach the toilet in time. Things can get messy so I dress after breakfast, then chivvy the boys into footwear and coats, then herd them out of the door. Benji tries to come with us – he always tries it on even though he knows that Nick will take him for a turn around the park before going into work. And the boys and I will walk him again after school.